


Morningstar

by Isabear



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Billy Elliot Fusion, Community: summerpornathon, Dancing, Drinking, Established Relationship, Fucking Machines, M/M, Porn With Plot, Team Gluttony, morris dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2011-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-07 10:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabear/pseuds/Isabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Gwaine transformed when he danced. In the mines he was solid, strong, quick. Homeward, he trudged like a man twice his age, dirty as sin. At night he drank and brawled and fell through doorways laughing. But when he danced, he flew.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morningstar

~~~

_Gwaine leaped into the air, arms flying, reaching for the sun. Music filled him, drumbeats and a trilling pipe racing up his spine and out his fingertips as the hankies in his fists fluttered like white flags._

_When it was over, Lancelot clapped him on the shoulder. “We need to make you dance more jigs.”_

_Gwaine smiled, but his eyes lingered on Elyan, whose neat, precise hands were putting away his drum like it was the most precious object in the world._

_They went to the pub still sweaty, their white shirts damp and ribbons hanging limp. Merlin bought the first round from out of the hat, a jingle-jangle of coins spilling onto the wooden bar and the barmaid gamely beginning to count. Percival started belting out a union song, and the others followed, laughing, drunk on spring and dance and a rare day in the sun._

***

“Hold still,” Elyan whispered. They were in his workshop, which was what he called the shack out back of the house. Dozens of brick houses stood lined up cheek by jowl, with tiny bricked-walled yards and outhouses. No one came out back except Gwen in the evenings, and she would know better tonight.

Still, they had neighbors.

“Bite on this.” Elyan offered Gwaine a twist of fabric, which Gwaine took in his mouth before laying his head on his arms. Elyan stroked his cheek, struck by the trust in those flutter-closed eyes.

Elyan cleared his throat. “Made this last week. Been waiting for your day off.” He reached awkwardly between Gwaine's legs and slid out the plug Gwaine'd been wearing since the pub, replacing it with a long metal shaft he’d melded from scrap, perfectly smooth. Behind the shaft the machine waited, metal arm poised for action.

“Keepin’ up with you this time,” Elyan breathed. It was a challenge, pleasing Gwaine. Keeping Gwaine. Elyan meant to win.

He started off slow, turning the crank gently. Gwaine shivered then relaxed, spreading his legs wider on the padded bench. Heat flushed Elyan’s face, and he began to turn a little faster, steady against the resistance. The shaft pulled out and pushed back in, and Gwaine lifted his hips to meet it.

Soon Elyan was pushing with both arms, muscles bulging with strain as he watched Gwaine arch, tossing his head. The air smelled like sweat and beer and sex, stifling in the small space, but Elyan couldn’t stop. He watched, fascinated, as the shaft shoved forward, Gwaine’s arse rising to meet it, his hole swallowing it down deep. Each thrust pushed a muffled grunt from Gwaine’s mouth, an unmistakable sound beneath the click-click of the wheels. If anyone heard, they would have to realize Gwaine was getting fucked six ways from Sunday.

“Come on,” Elyan hissed. “C’mon-“

Gwaine curled up, clawing at the bench.

***

Gwaine walked out the front door with a hitch in his step. Elyan watched him go.

***

“Strike’s coming,” Merlin muttered from behind his beer. He was the first to even mention it in front of Elyan.

“'M not a miner,” Elyan countered. Machine men didn’t count.

“Could use you anyway.”

Elyan bit his lip and nodded. Across the room, Gwaine looked at him with warm eyes.

***

Midsummer night, Elyan looked out the window to see men walk past with their faces blackened and tools in their hands. Calmly, he went and woke Gwen, got their coats, and bundled them both off to the pub.

They sat alone in a corner through the lock-in until nearly dawn, the men around them murmuring, murmuring, but never quite looking their way.

***

They caught the saboteurs that Sunday, in church, and dragged them out two bobbies per man. One was Gwaine’s brother.

Elyan watched Gwaine's hands twitch and sweat roll down the side of his neck as he breathed, breathed, and refused to turn his head.

***

Gwaine transformed when he danced. In the mines he was solid, strong, quick. Homeward, he trudged like a man twice his age, dirty as sin. At night he drank and brawled and fell through doorways laughing. But when he danced, he flew.

Elyan thought of caged canaries and tried to stifle the twist of hot anger and cold fear in his gut.

***

Three weeks later, Gwaine broke strike, rode the bus to the mine. Everyone asked how it could have happened.

Elyan winced, thinking of four brothers crammed into one tiny house, their table empty, the fifth chair standing forlorn and untouched.

~~~

_No one talked to Gwaine. He walked down the street, invisible except for the men who spat at him._

_A door opened somewhere up ahead. Gwaine looked up, surprised. Elyan stood framed in the doorway for a moment, watching. Then he turned and went back inside, leaving the door open._

_Shaking with relief, Gwaine followed him in._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [you're a canary // i'm a coal mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465327) by [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery)




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